The Sun's In Your Veins
by Stylus.Runner.Up
Summary: Roronoa Zoro is part of an ancient and powerful vampire clan. As his father prepares for a war with a rival clan, Zoro gets sent to do the chore of upgrading his dad's prized car. The mechanic that agrees to work with him proves to be more trouble than he's work. Rated M b/c let's be honest with ourselves lmao, Zoro x OC
1. The Actual Most Difficult Client

**A/N:**

 **Hey m8s. During the past five years, my love for reading and writing has been absolutely destroyed by reading and writing essay upon essay. I'm trying to, er, redevelop my ability to write freely/creatively (?) through fanfiction! I know the community here was super awesome and engaging years ago; might as well give it a go and see if its still as I remember it. I'm trying to write and explore my OC character, Charlie, while playing and goofing with my favourite character in One Piece. So yeah, I'm going to try writing a ZoroxOC story!**

 **I have a general idea for the storyline of SunBlooded; I'm rating it MA pre-emptively so that I can just write whatever. I'm planning on exploring my headcannon of Zoro's family, also vampires because. :I. Just because? Lel. I'll try to post regularily. Please bear with me! I'd love any/all feedback you can give me.**

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"Oi. I have certain needs that need to be met. Will you do it or not?"

Charlie crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow at this latest, rather pushy client. Its not that he doubted whether or not he'd be paid for his work; the man glaring holes through to the back of his head was dressed very well, and the car he wanted customised wasn't subtle by any means. What put Charlie off – no matter who this man may be – was how this arrogant idiot strolled into his shop ten minutes to closing, demanding that the young mechanic change his beautiful black muscle car into something akin to a tank.

"You've got some nerve, coming in here like this. I don't care how intimidating you think you are; in here, I'm the boss. Come tomorrow." Charlie turned away and walked to his locker.

He could feel the green haired man's eyebrow twitch behind his back. If he really cared to listen closely, he might have even heard a growl. However, Charlie was more focused on unzipping his dirty coveralls and setting his toolbelt on a shelf. A sigh welled from deep within his chest; his shoulders gently released as he hummed the day's stress away.

"No. I want it started tonight."

Charlie's eyes almost rolled into the back of his head, never to be seen again. Almost.

O'Flynn turned on his heel, shoulders squared with the weight of indifference. "Look man, I'll be honest. The parts needed to do what you're asking will take at least two weeks to ship in; its not going to "get started" tonight. If you really, REALLY need that shit to get done, then either come back tomorrow. …Or, leave. Up to you."

Their eyes met in something of a deadlock; however, no matter how much the well-dressed man pressured, the young mechanic wasn't going to budge. No matter how stern the stubborn mechanic was, the green-haired man showed no sign of understanding. Eventually, Charlie sighed.

"Tell you what. If you pay a down payment, I'll order the parts... Sound like a good compromise?"

The glare lessened; arms were crossed in acceptance. Charlie walked over to his desk, still undressing, and started searching for the parts on his computer. It took a few minutes, but for the first time since meeting, his rushed client had a few moments to spare. He stood up and turned around, "hiding" a grin. Charlie O'Flynn wasn't about to NOT charge this idiot asshole tax for coming in last-minute and harassing him like this.

"You pay me two grand, and your parts will start on their way today. If that's too much, th-"

He was cut off by a shiny black wallet; his eyes widened as the other man thumbed through several bills and offered them without hesitation. Charlie reached out and took them, re-counted them slowly, and looked back up at him. He pursed his lips, biting back a smart comment as the taller man smirked.

"Its not. Get it done, O'Flynn."

Charlie looked like he'd just eaten a sour candy. If nothing else, he wore his thoughts on his sleeve. He pulled a maroon bandana off of his head, letting loose an impressive ploof of fluffy, out-of-control strawberry-blonde hair. Nobody could say if it was curly or wavy; either way, it almost had more body than the man himself. Standing at a towering five feet tall, Charlie O'Flynn's body language made him feel ten feet tall. Never one to hide from something, however, he turned and crossed his arms. His teal eyes were bright in the face of this stranger's overwhelming suede-like smugness.

"If we're going to be working together, you can quit it with that arrogance. Remember that I'm doing YOU a favour. ….Who ARE you, anyways?"

The man smirked a bit bigger, pulling his sunglasses away to reveal sharp, steely honey-coloured eyes.

"Roronoa Zoro."

"…what, like…your first name is Roronoa?"

Zoro blinked, then frowned.

"No, last name Roronoa."

Charlie blinked, then grinned and forced himself to relax again. This man wasn't worth new stress.

"That's pretty goofy, not going to lie. Well, frustrating to meet you, Last Name Roronoa. I'll do my best to fix and customize your car – however, you're going to have to leave it here and wait while I work my magic. I'm going to need your phone number, too. "

Zoro blinked more slowly as he processed the shrimp's words; he nodded, and together they finished the formalities of his working order. When everything was said and done, Charlie led him to the door and locked it behind him. He looked up at the taller, well-built man and offered a hand to shake. There was a pause accompanied by an eyebrow cocking before hands were shaken. Zoro noted that, despite having a tiny, wiry build, O'Flynn's hands were strong and anything but fragile. Charlie was less so surprised to find Zoro's hand to be incredibly strong and rough. Both regarded the other for a moment before Charlie stepped back.

"I'll call you when I make progress. See you later!"

Charlie turned on his heel and went to circle his shop, spinning Zoro's keys around his finger in a carefree way that left Zoro questioning who exactly he had just left his car with. Just before Charlie could leave, however, Zoro reached back to rub his neck.

"Ahh. Give me a ride back to my hotel."

Charlie froze on one foot before stomping into a pivot to face Zoro. He narrowed his eyes.

"You serious?"

He watched as Zoro nodded. At this point, however, there was little surprise in this demand.

"Alright, Christ. Follow me."

Zoro followed around the building, wondering what kind of unit an advertised "master mechanic" drove. He was stopped dead in his tracks as he watched Charlie get into an incredibly underwhelming rusty old car. It was an odd car-like thing; the window was cracked in several places, and, despite the warm tones of the setting sun, was an unappealing burnt red colour.

"…"

Charlie jiggled the handle and opened it with a grunt, slipping in with an unexpected fluidity. He beeped the horn at Zoro; Zoro's face became stoic and emotionless as the horn itself reminded him of a child's bicycle. Charlie cackled at his (lack of) expression.

"You too chicken to get in? I mean, the bus'll get here in about three quarters of an hour, so the wait wouldn't be TOO bad."

Zoro's jaw set as he strode towards the tiny thing. Nobody called Roronoa Zoro a goddamned chicken. Besides, sitting and waiting would be infinitely worse than riding with this idiot. He walked over and opened the door, unimpressed facial expression intensifying as he had to brute force the door open. His knees almost reached his ears for a moment before he reached down to adjust the seat. The chair shuddered into a roomier spot. Zoro growled as Charlie's grin grew.

"Watch it."

"Sorry, heh. I put my money under the hood – not ONTO the hood. You're the one who asked for the ride. Where to?"

Zoro gave the address to a well-known, high-end hotel across the city. He rested his elbow on the door and looked out the window, suit fitting his form instead of bunching up loosely like his mechanic's street clothes. Charlie backed up and drove off, and Zoro begrudgingly admitted to himself that the car ran as smoothly as his own. The vibrant sky painted the skyline a deceptively beautiful series of vermillions, oranges, and blues. It was easy to forget about his driver and the cramp growing in his shin.

Charlie let them sit in silence for some time, focusing and relaxing into the wheel of his car. He was much more at ease while driving; he felt at home, and even let himself settle into a comfortable lull. His mood improved, eventually to the point where he looked over to Zoro. No matter how childlike Zoro was, the fella took care of himself. When he first showed up at Charlie's door, he was questionably overdressed. However, it was now apparent that Mr. Roronoa wore that suit to demand respect. Not that he wouldn't naturally command it; his heavyset build, deep voice, and arrogant attitude set him as someone not to be trifled with. He seemed the kind of guy who'd loosen up after a couple beer, though. Yeah, he was probably a good guy.

"So…what brings you to the city? And better yet, to my garage? Your hotel's quite a ways away from my place, and there are bigger shops in the city."

Zoro didn't look away from the window.

"Business. And…business."

Charlie puffed his cheeks up, pouting at an answer so stony even sculpting masters would be baffled.

"Ahh, I see. Your business isn't mine, except for when it is?" Silence. "Okay, then. Why are you looking to bulletproof your car, tint your windows, improve the engine? You a cop, or something?"

Zoro looked at Charlie through the reflection in the window, and he felt a shiver rip down his spine. He turned back to the wheel and turned a corner.

" ….Got it. Your business isn't mine. I guess all I can say is take care of yourself, stay safe, then."

Zoro angled an eyebrow at his driver.

"Why do you care how I handle myself?

Again, he was met with that infernal grin. It reminded him of a certain monkey-like friend of his, only with O'Flynn, there was a slumbering energy that put Zoro on edge.

"You're my biggest client right now! You have to stay safe; if you don't, I lose a sweet 'business' deal. Also, I hate to see people get hurt."

"Ahh."

More comfortable silence passed. This time, Zoro studied Charlie through the window's reflection. He seemed young; around twenty, perhaps. His build was confusing, however. It was explosive, despite only showing lean muscle in his shoulders and arms. His wrists were small, but to Zoro, that only brought attention to the action carried through his rather animated hands. Zoro understood mechanics to be physically strong. Seeing somebody slight leading a garage confused him. Evidently, O'Flynn's shop had been doing well; it was the first recommended by older, less accommodating mechanics around the city. He was easy to read because all of his expressions were told not only through his "speak my mind" personality but also through his body language. The only thing Zoro liked about the little shit so far was that he wasn't obnoxiously loud. Zoro decided to classify Charlie as something of a "relaxed wildcard." He looked back to the city without saying anything.

Eventually, Charlie pulled up to the hotel and looked out the window. People stared at his rustbucket with envy, obviously. Charlie ignored them and whistled up at the impressive building. Other well-dressed people mulled about nearby but gave them a wide berth upon meeting Roronoa's glare.

"Holy shit. I bet you sleep well up there, hey?"

After a few moments with no response, he looked back to his passenger – or rather, where he previously was. Zoro spared no time in exiting the vehicle and heading up the unmarred concrete stairs, hands in his pockets. Charlie waved, grinning wide.

"I'll call you later when I've done some work!"

Zoro flinched as Charlie peeled off and burned around a corner. He'd never admit it, but he was glad the shrimp drove in a more respectable manner when with others. He waited until Charlie left before walking into the lavish hotel lobby; he gave the desk clerk a look that left her seated behind the desk. He escorted himself up the elevator to his room, sliding the key through the door with a subtle glance from one end of the hallway to the next. He'd seen enough. He picked up his cell phone and made a call, leaning on the frame of his open window.

"Eah, its Zoro. I made contact with the mechanic; he took the job."

He shifted onto one leg, eyes sharpening in the dark.

"I'll meet him again in a few days, after he's done some work on your car. ….I'll talk to you tomorrow night. Eah. I'm going to go out tonight."

He hung up and paused a moment before tossing his suit jacket to the bedside. He slipped out the window and landed in the alley below with a muted thud.

All the while, a dark hunger whispered heavy nothings in the back of his mind. Zoro growled gently to himself.

What the hell was causing this restlessness?


	2. Who Runs a Clean Business These Days?

Charlie froze as something heavy fell from the glovebox. Looking back, he really shouldn't have been surprised. The metal rang as it clunked against the floor of the passenger's seat, and for a moment, he froze. He'd never been this close to a silenced pistol before; let alone one with such a detailed – and obviously, very expensive – handle. It was a silvery black with burnished purple detailing, and the word "Shusui" etched into the barrel. Charlie took a moment to release a tense, fluttery breath before washing the inside of the glovebox and rearranging the contents. He eyed the pistol as he worked, hoping to pin it to the floor so it couldn't rear back and bite with a hiss. At first, it had made his heart stop; now, he barely noticed the pounding in his chest. He pulled a tissue out of his pocket and carefully – CAREFULLY – put it to rest in the belly of the now-cleaned small compartment. It slumbered with the car's manual, as if it would somehow assist in the operation of this vehicle.

The short mechanic paused again as he closed the small latch firmly. Perhaps, in Roronoa's world, the pistol DID aid in the operation of the vehicle. He pursed his lips in understanding. If he was getting shot at, Charlie supposed, it might be better to have something to defend himself with?

He hoped he would never be in a situation that called for a decision of that caliber.

As he pushed the passenger seat back to do a proper clean underneath, a matte black pistol revealed itself. Charlie hissed a bit, but this time did not hesitate to continue to polish the difficult edges of the car's inner fabric. He danced around the gun, doing his best to keep himself absolutely separate from anything involving these firearms. Two smaller firearms made sense; a person usually had two hands, right? And, he thought, if there was also a passenger, that left one to drive while the other shot things.

"All guns aside, this thing's been really well-taken care of."

As time passed, Charlie relaxed and once again lost himself in his work. He felt at home with metal, leather, and oil. He saw vehicles as living creatures, and was able to work with them as no others could. He'd first inherited this shop two years ago; since then, his ability had inflated his renown and made him well-known amidst car enthusiasts of the area. His shop was modest; it was old, admittedly. Several roof tiles sagged from the exhaustion of decades pulling them towards the ground. There was a hole in the floor, betraying the time a tile was pulled from the ground by a rogue car part. The place was dusty, rusty, and each bump showed age like rings in a treestump. To Charlie, it was home.

Minutes rolled into hours, and soon Charlie had prepared Roronoa's car for the bodywork needed to fit all the damn modifications. He walked to the side of his shop and slumped down on his chair, rubbing his forehead with the back of a gloved hand. Goddamn, what had he gotten himself into. He pulled out a cell phone, dialing his client's number. Might as well give him an update.

-o-

Zoro pulled away from the drunken idiot's neck, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. He growled gently and set him against the wall. The idiot had tried to start a fight with the "grass-head idiot" for some reason unbeknownst to him. They went out back and traded blows, with Zoro obviously winning out. He'd broken the man's nose and let loose an inevitable flow of blood. The muscular man had struggled before deciding to bite the idiot's neck; he usually tried not to feed from random people because it was dangerous. Zoro had been a vampire for a long time. As he walked out of the hallway and adjusted his jacket, he wondered again: what was making him so restless?

He cussed under his breath as his phone rang, vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and scowled at the unfamiliar number. Who the fuck was calling him now, as the day was giving way to night?

"Hey, Mr. Roronoa. I'm just calling to give you an update on your vehicle. Got a minute?"

Zoro looked over the shoulder, back at the limp figure in the alley. The man wasn't dead, but he would be very weak for a long, long time.

"Yeah, fine. What have you got done."

"I've got the whole thing cleaned, prepped, and ready for the mods when your parts come in. ….But, uh. I've got something I kind of need to talk to you about."

"Out with it."

"You're especially grumpy today, aren't you? …I found your two firearms in the car. I need to know if I involved myself in some illegal shit, or if we're in danger."

Zoro snorted, huffing to himself. "Obviously. I live a dangerous life. You should be fine, so long as you keep your business and my business separate. Understand?"

"YOU made your business my business when you contacted my shop, idiot. I'll call you later, but this shit'll cost you more."

Zoro was about to retort when O'Flynn hung up on him. He stared at his phone and growled, then slipped his phone back into his jacket. He smirked to himself. Since he was sent on this stupid errand by his father, he'd been unable to feed regularily. That wasn't a problem anymore, though. Zoro knew who to drink next.

-o-

Charlie hopped into his car and lied back on the seat, pulling out his phone and browsing Reddit for awhile. He always took time to cool down from work; today was no different. After he had hung up on Roronoa, there was a neat jump to his step; for some reason, it felt good knowing that he'd gotten the better of the arrogant man. His mindless internetting was interrupted by a call, however; Charlie grinned a huge shit-eating grin when he saw who it was.

"Yo, Tatsu! Been awhile, man. What can I do for you?"

-o-

Zoro frowned, watching the shrimp do nothing for about fifteen minutes. Did this idiot have a life outside of doing whatever he did in this run-down shithole? He stood quite a distance away, purposefully having chosen less conspicuous clothing for his latest outing. When Charlie grinned, though, he noticed an incredible shift in posture. When the mechanic was in the shop, he was relaxed. He walked around the shop and handled his tools with an extra measure of gentle confidence. Zoro wondered, however, if there was something more to the fluffy-haired man. It felt as though there was a gentle, subtle energy waiting to press free; in that moment, when he watched as he blossomed, becoming almost explosive. Whoever had called on the phone certainly knew something that Zoro, at that moment, decided he most definitely had to know. The rusty little car backed up and drove off, drifting around a corner and accentuating the loud cry of excitement that Charlie let out. Zoro huffed, then followed. Vampirism had granted him many strengths; patience, however, was not necessarily one of them.

He made sure to to stick to the sides of the roads as he followed O'Flynn. Each road was worse than the last both in terms of visual degredation and overall danger. Zoro paused as Charlie yeiled to a red light; all at once, the rusty red car made sense. If the mechanic frequented streets like this often, then there was little confusion as to why he'd drive a vehicle that didn't suggest O'Flynn to be a wealthy man. At one point, Zoro was sure he passed an actual mugging that may have ended in a stabbing. That was beyond his concern, though. What mattered more was where Charlie pulled to a stop.

They both entered into a clearing, and Zoro made sure to melt into the shoulder of a corner wall. Charlie hopped out of his car and bumped fists with a rather tall, muscular Asian man with a burst of hair pulled into a short ponytail. People these days seemed to enjoy shaving the sides of their head. Zoro didn't quite understand it –and he understood what Charlie was doing here even less. Between this building's rainpipe and the brickwork of the corner, Zoro could see his mechanic shaking hands and making some kind of deal. He slid amongst the darker side of the street with a surprisingly silent step. He swept onto into an alcove leading into a locked storefront; it was a close enough space where he could hear his two people of interest.

"Hey, Tatsu! Find another nice car for me to lift?"

"Eah. Here's the hit's address…and here's where you take it. Can you do it?"

"Jeez, did you really ask that? Just because I'm the younger brother doesn't mean I'm not reliable. You can count on me."

The Asian man smirked. Zoro wrinkled his nose. So these two are related? ...Interesting. This means that Charlie doesn't come from a simple family. In his experience, this means that he is less likely to be contacted or close to more than just this brother. Zoro blinked as he processed their conversation. Lifting cars? Well, that would explain how somebody as young as O'Flynn was able to afford and buy an entire business by himself. Finally, Zoro smirked to himself. Since Charlie is apparently involved with some sort of grand theft auto ring, he is unlikely to go to the police when in trouble. Further proof of this came from the fact that he drove to a dangerous place to exchange destroyable, hard-to-follow information. What an excellent figure to target.

They talked for awhile about more relaxed topics, so Zoro took his leave. He dipped around the corner and disappeared, only taking a few moments before coming to a step in front of his hotel again. His black leather jacket slipped off his shoulders as the elevator carried him to the upper floors. It was an incredibly useful trip; much had been learned about his little mechanic. Zeus will be happy to hear what had been learned. Zoro snorted. For all that was worth, he supposed.


End file.
